


save me

by novocaine_sea



Series: 12 Months of Semi Eita [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, policeman!Iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 12:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novocaine_sea/pseuds/novocaine_sea
Summary: How had he gotten here? He was a college student, emphasis on was. He had friends, good grades, everything imaginable and he threw it all away for a little bag with white powder in it.Cold, homeless, and hungry, Semi Eita is the walking definition of suffering. He's not used to the kindness of strangers, but when one does come along, he's going to have to suck up his pride and let them help.





	save me

**Author's Note:**

> I sucked up all my creative juices to finish this just in time for IwaSemi day! I love these two together, and contrary to what this fic may entail, I love Semi Eita with all my heart. 
> 
> Thank you to [Kate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle%22) for helping me plan and develop this all those months ago! And for teasing you with angst ;D <3

Everything hurts.

His stomach feels as if it’s caving in from hunger, his head pounds from the exhaustion and withdrawal, his legs hurt just from how stiff they are. He’s terribly cold, as it’s winter and he’s outside and there’s snow on the ground. Somehow there are still children playing in the park and he has to wonder how these parents let their kids come here when it’s as cold as it is.

Sometimes the kids would come up to him and poke at him, asking what was wrong with him. He’d just grin and show his yellowed teeth, which was enough to scare them away. Thank god.

He isn’t going to openly admit that he’s an addict. These kids probably don’t even know what or who an addict is. 

With a groan, Semi Eita rolls over to face the back of the bench he’s laying on. He has a blanket over him, but it’s threadbare and no longer provides the warmth he needs to survive the winter. Semi’s sure he’s going to die on this bench lest the cops come back around to kick him out. There’s one cop with pretty hair and a mean glare that would come around and force him to leave often. But Semi has nowhere to go and he technically isn’t breaking the law, so he always ends right back up in this park anyway.

“Fuck,” his voice breaks through the air quietly. His lips feel cemented together. Water? What was that? Semi had eaten some snow to try and quench that thirst but it dried up real quick. Now he’s lying lifeless on the bench again. 

How had he gotten here? He was a college student, emphasis on  _ was _ . He had friends, good grades, everything imaginable and he threw it all away for a little bag with white powder in it. 

He loses track of time. Semi closes his eyes and when they open again it’s dark out, the kids are gone, and there’s nobody around. Semi shivers under his thin blanket and rises slowly, pressing a hand to his head to ease the pounding. He has no more money to fulfill his need, to feel high again so that he can forget the pain. 

“Oi,” there’s a voice to his right and he startles, turning a cricked neck in the direction it comes from. He wishes he hadn’t acknowledged it as a cop walks up to him, dog beside him and panting happily as he trots next to his owner. This is it, he thinks. He still has a small bag in his pocket, and though it’s empty, there’s still residue on it.

He recognizes the cop; it’s not Pretty Hair, but his partner that comes around with him. Semi calls him Spiky Hair because he’s creative and can’t think much past the third grade level. He closes his eyes again hoping the time will fly by once more and when he opens them the cop will be gone and he will be trembling alone.

“Hey,” the voice is closer and he feels hot dog breath on his leg through the blanket and sweatpants. Those are rough looking too. All of Semi’s clothes are rough looking, falling apart from the daily usage. They don’t smell great either. 

“What?” Semi squeaks, speaking in almost a whisper. His throat is so dry and it hurts to speak. He swallows around the thickness in his throat but it doesn’t do much good.

The cop holds out a bag. It’s plastic and through it he can make out the figure of a water bottle and something else packaged. Food? Semi’s stomach growls in delight but he can’t make himself reach out to take it from him.

“It’s too cold to be outside, you should go somewhere warm,” the cop states, as if it were easy. It makes Semi snatch the bag from his hand out of spite and he take the water bottle out in order to soothe his throat. He drinks half of it in less than thirty seconds. It immediately makes him nauseous and the world spins for a moment. Semi hacks up a lung too while he’s at it. The cop just stands there watching, dog sniffing.

“Thanks.” Semi bites out. As if he hadn’t heard that one before! Where’s he gonna go? “Jail sounds pretty warm, why don’t you and your friend just arrest me already?” Semi doesn’t know where this confidence comes from. Usually he’s only confident when he’s high.

The cop narrows his eyes, “Give us a crime and we will.” Semi doesn’t respond, only thinks about pulling out the small pouch in his pocket, but decides instead to takes out the sandwich Spiky Hair had brought him and devours it. He doesn’t know what’s on it because he can’t taste a thing; he swallows too fast to really enjoy the food. Semi just wants to have a full stomach again. Going hungry sucks, but nothing is worse than the side effects of the withdrawal. All he wants are the drugs. But his money is all dried up and he doesn’t even know if he’d live long enough to find his dealer. 

Semi polishes off the sandwich in record time and the press of the water bottle against his arm makes him shiver but he ignores it. He lays back down and pillows his head on his arm, “Thank you, for the food.”

The cop lets out a heavy sigh and nods. Semi can see his breath in the cool winter air. He curls in on himself more; he’s so cold, but the feeling of the sandwich in his stomach heats him.

He can tell the cop wants to say more to him but only bids him farewell, his dog trotting ahead of him. Semi ends up downing half the water afterwards, shivering from the liquid chilling him from the inside out. At least the sandwich had provided comfort. 

When going to put the water back into the bag, Semi catches a glimpse of something in the dim light of the street. It’s a crisp bill of yen and with shaking hands, he pulls it out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this amount of money and Semi knows he should save it.

However, he’s suddenly regained his strength and stuffs his things into the decrepit backpack he has. As he stands he groans, his bones barely able to hold him up. Semi had lost so much weight that he’s just skin and bones. But the desire for more is stronger than anything and he stumbles through the streets, people giving him odd looks as he does. He can barely see, his tunnel vision being the only thing guiding him.

Once he reaches the alleyway that had once been his home, Semi practically collapses, his legs finally giving out. He grunts when he hits the asphalt, chin slamming against it and teeth rattling in his mouth. He knows it’s going to bruise considering how delicate his skin is now that he’s barely alive.   
“Eita, my man!” A familiar voice sounds a head of him and Semi tries to shake the dizziness from his skull as he lifts his head. He can sort of make out the blurry finger, but the pop of choppy, dandelion hair in the low light catches his eye.

“Hey Teru...” Semi rasps and skeleton fingers delve into the confines of his backpack, pulling out the indiscriminate amount of yen. “Hook me up?”

The bill is snatched from his hand almost as fast as Semi had held it up and he can vaguely see Terushima inspecting it to see if it’s legit. Terushima bursts into laughter once he comes to a conclusion, pocketing the money for himself and slapping a tiny new bag of white powder into Semi’s upraised palm.

“There you go man. I upped the dosage for ya too, since you gave me so much. Where’d ya get that kind of dough anyway?” Terushima pulls the money out once more and inhales the scent, “Smells fresh. Also like cigarettes.” 

Semi struggles to bring himself upright, immediately pouring a line out onto the back of his hand and snorting it. He doesn’t care that it wasn’t a precise line, just wants the drugs in his system. He knows it’ll hit harder because of the withdrawal and how skinny he is. 

“A cop gave it to me.” Semi finally says, feeling his body begin to tingle, the withdrawal slowly lifting. Fuck, it feels so good. Instant relief. He snorts a little more, giving himself that extra push.

Terushima bright facade fades rapidly, “A cop? You runnin’ with the cops now, Eita?”

Semi’s brows furrowed. “Did I say that? Some cop gave me some food while I was half dead on a bench. I gave him a hard time, I’m surprised he didn’t arrest me right there.”

Terushima yanks Semi up by his shirt and looks him dead in the eye, warm brown eyes frantic, “Listen, you don’t tell the cops anything. Don’t fucking tell them who gave you the coke or where you got it. This place doesn’t leave your fucking crusty ass lips, you hear me?”

Semi holds up his hands in defense. It takes all his strength to do so. He wishes the drugs would hit already so he would be weightless, “I’m not gonna tell, Teru!”

Terushima shoves him back and begins to disappear down the alley, “Get the fuck out of here. And if the cops come sniffing around here, you better hope you’re dead by then.”

Semi had never seen Terushima so paranoid before, it almost leaves him shocked.

Almost.

There is something way more important than Terushima’s bad attitude, and that’s the overwhelming desire to  _ yell _ . He wants to scream, jump from the rooftops. Semi’s heart is pounding with adrenaline, the need to do something.

So he takes off running down the streets, yelling at the top of his lungs. He barely dodges the people around him, arms spread out beside him like an eagle soaring through the sky. At one point he mimics an airplane, zooming around people and cackling at their disturbed faces. Not once does he think of how he’s coming off because Semi doesn’t think. He just does.

Semi runs for a long time, until his body can no longer physically hold him up. He doesn’t know where he ends up but he doesn’t care. He’s on cloud nine. Nothing can bring him down now. He holds his hand out above him and laughs at the stars he can barely see in between them, the lights from the streets blending with the millions overhead. 

“Woo!” Semi let out a euphoric yell, continuing into something short of a mating call. He screams until his voice is raw, until it’s nonexistent. He doesn’t remember much after that.

He comes to the next morning, when the toe of a shoe jams into his ribs. He awakes with a gasp and a groan at the pounding in his head and the pain shooting through his side.

“Oikawa, what the fuck?” One gruff voice comes from above him.

“He wasn’t waking up!” A second, fake innocent and shrill huffs, “I had to do  _ something _ .”

“You’re a police officer. You don’t kick somebody who is obviously hurt.”

“Are you serious? This guy’s a junky, he’s barely a person!”

“ _ Oikawa _ .” 

There’s no response, just some grumblings from the one named Oikawa. Semi finally opens his eyes, blinking the crust from them and peering into the sun before his eyes fall on the cop from the night before. Of course he’d be the one to find him. Find him... where  _ is  _ he exactly.

“Can you sit up? You must have frostbite...” The nice policeman helps him sit up and Semi feels frozen solid, almost hollow. His head is pounding and his nose burns every time he sniffles from the cold. His surroundings are unfamiliar to him, but it smells like garbage. Or maybe that’s just him.

“Where are your things?”

“You don’t have to help me,” Semi coughs.

“You heard the man, Iwa-chan, we should just leave him be!” Oikawa jumps in and Spiky Hair sends him a glare that cuts through Semi even though it’s not directed at him.

“He’s got blood all over his face, what’s wrong with you? You’re such a dick.”

Semi’s lips part in shock at the statement and he tries to reach up to touch his face but it’s no use. His arms are too stiff and he wilts a little in Spiky Hair’s arms. The nicer cop settles his green eyes on Semi again, “You need to get yourself cleaned up.”

“We’ll take him to the station, he’s probably got drugs on him.”

“I’ll take him back to my place.”

“Iwaizumi... are you nuts?”

“I don’t want your charity,” Semi sputters and he tries to move away but once again, it’s pretty useless. Now that he’s more awake, however, he can feel himself shivering and his teeth chattering. When he looks down at himself, there’s snow covering him. He’s absolutely frigid, but he can barely feel a thing. 

Iwaizumi pinches the bridge of his nose and helps Semi stand on trembling legs. Semi looks more like a baby deer standing for the first time, almost collapsing. If it weren’t for Iwaizumi strong hand wrapped around Semi’s arm, he would’ve been on the ground again. “It’s not charity if it’s the right thing,” Iwaizumi finally says to him once he’s certain Semi won’t fall.

“Iwaizumi, we need to bring him to the station-”

Iwaizumi holds a hand up to stop Oikawa, indicating who has the real power in the situation. Oikawa lets out a frustrated yell and only stomps off in response to make a phone call. The two of them watch him go before Semi begins trying to tug himself from Iwaizumi’s grip, but it’s no use fighting with a cop. Even though there are most likely drugs in his pocket, he would much rather rot away in a cell than go to this man’s apartment. He just doesn’t understand why there’s any pity for him. He’s a shell of a human, so far removed from humanity that trying to restore it is fruitless at this point.

Iwaizumi doesn’t say a word to Oikawa as he guides Semi to the patrol car, though Oikawa’s eyes are set into a nasty glare. Semi tries to look away but he can’t. Though he’s unappreciative of the kicks he’d received to his ribs that morning, Semi is on Oikawa’s side. He wants to be arrested, wants to sit in a cold cell and await death rather than be nursed back to health by some hunky cop. He doesn’t deserve that.

He’s helped into the car and before he knows it they’re arriving at Iwaizumi’s house. It’s not big by any means but Semi supposes Iwaizumi doesn’t need a lot of space if he lives alone. Semi remembers suddenly that he has a dog that could probably tear him to shreds, and he doesn’t want to be sniffed at and discovered. Though his addiction isn’t exactly a secret.

“You should get into the shower, it’ll warm you up,” Iwaizumi explains as he leads Semi into the house. His dog only looks up from its spot curled up on the couch but doesn’t move to greet them.

“I really don’t need your help.” Semi argues, though he’s slumped against the wall and out of breath.

“And I don’t think you deserve to die on the street.” It’s a blunt response and all Semi can think is  _ why though _ ? before he’s being hauled into the bathroom. “You don’t have to strip in front of me, and if it’s easier you can take a bath, but you do need to get cleaned up.” The bath is drawn and Semi can feel heat fill the room, melting the aches in his bones a little. His head still throbs along with his sides and he feels exhausted from the pure euphoria he’d felt the night before. “I can get you some clothes too.”

Before Semi could even think of a response, Iwaizumi leaves the bathroom to fetch said clothes. Semi takes the moment to look at himself in the mirror, something he hasn’t done in so long. There’s blood on his face, as one of the two cops had said earlier. It runs from his nose and streaks across his cheek like a crimson river, multiple branches breaking from the main stream. His cheeks are sunken in and his eyes look hollow, bags so dark it looks like he has two black eyes. His hair is lifeless and matted, lips still a little blue from being in the snow so long. He’s about to lift his shirt to gaze at the damage there but Iwaizumi comes back with a change of clothes and Semi drops the holey fabric.

Iwaizumi turns the bath off and feels the water before shaking his hand off, “It should be warm enough. You can use the soap and shampoo and whatever else you need. I’ll be in the kitchen.” With an affirmative nod, Iwaizumi leaves him alone, not shutting the door completely. Semi feels almost like a child with an overprotective father afraid to leave him completely alone. Though he’s not sure what that feels like, his own father not being in his life much.

With a deep breath, Semi sees no other choice other than taking a bath. Shakily he takes off his shirt and tries to avoid the mirror because he can see everything when he looks down. As predicted, Semi is skin and bones; he can count each one of his ribs perfectly and can see his hip bones jutting out. It’s an ugly sight. Not for the first time, he feels pity for himself. But he’d chosen the drugs over a healthy, comfortable life. 

He slips into the bath and lets out a moan. It’s so  _ warm _ and something he’d missed. He can barely keep himself upright, just wanting to dunk his whole body under. He wants to submerge himself and never return to the land of the living, but some part of him keeps his head above the water. Maybe it’s the thought that somebody has shown him a kindness that’ nobody else has; here’s somebody who wants to help him truly get back on his feet.

Semi should be more grateful, but he also can’t shake the feeling that this is a setup of some kind. Iwaizumi wouldn’t turn his back on his partner for some homeless junky, right? It just doesn’t seem possible. 

Semi doesn’t know how long he soaks in the water but he washes himself off using the sob and washcloth and the shampoo and conditioner. He hasn’t felt this clean in a while and the murkiness of the water reflects just how dirty he’d been. It’s kind of disgusting, but he’s happy to start fresh now. 

Draining the water, Semi shakily steps out of the bath to dry himself off. He tries to ignore his skinniness, preferring not to draw attention to it. He pulls on the clothes Iwaizumi had left out for him, but they’re practically falling off him. The red sweater slips off one shoulder and the pants barely stay on his hips unless he ties the string extremely tight. Even then, they seem to be falling down. He shakes it off and once again assesses himself in the mirror, seeing that his hair, though wet, looks a lot better than it had before.

Iwaizumi is in the kitchen, as he said he’d be, when Semi exits the bathroom and he watches him cook for a moment before clearing his throat, “Thanks for, uh, letting me use your bath.”

The policeman glances at him before continuing to stir the vegetables in the pot, “No problem. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

In all honesty, he feels incredibly awkward.

“I went through your things,” Iwaizumi continues and Semi freezes up, heart hammering. He knows he doesn’t have anything incriminating in his backpack, it’s probably just the blanket, but he knows there’s probably empty cocaine bags in there. Along with the half full one in his pants pockets that he’s currently holding, it’s not looking good. “I could arrest you for what I found, you know this, right?”

“Then why don’t you?” Semi bites, unable to help himself even as he leans against the counter, “I told you... it would be in your best benefit to do so. And your partner seemed to want that for me to.”

“You’ll just rot in prison. It’s not the right place for you. You need real assistance.” Iwaizumi explains as he pulls out two bowls, “I’m willing to look past this if you’ll agree to get treatment.”

Semi blinks. The thought of getting help for his addiction had never crossed his mind. He always thought he’d either die or end up in prison and go through the forced recovery process that way. The idea of actually seeking treatment willingly, it seems far-fetched. Besides... “Treatment? I’m homeless, Iwaizumi-san. I don’t have money for that. Why do you even care so much?”

Iwaizumi remains calm, even as Semi’s voice raises and wavers slightly. He just focuses on taking the rice from the rice cooker and filling the bowls before pouring the vegetables over it, “I don’t think you deserve to sit in prison for however many years before you get out and repeat this process. If you can get help-”

“I’m just some stranger who was destined to die on the street. Your job is to arrest people like me before that happens or to just let it happen.”

There’s a pained expression on Iwaizumi’s face as he passes Semi to place the bowls on the table. Semi’s gaze follows him, both enraged and almost too tired and comfortable to care. But he just wants an answer and he’ll verbally beat it from Iwaizumi. 

A sigh follows as Iwaizumi sits and stares into his bowl, “Somebody I cared for very much passed because of overdose when I was around your age. I didn’t even know he was using. So if there’s anything I can do to help you get past this, I fully intend on doing it. I don’t want you to end up like him, even if you are some stranger.”

Semi’s lungs deflate throughout the whole story. He doesn’t have a retort to that, just quietly sits across from Iwaizumi. How would he even argue with that? Sure, maybe it was weird. But Semi has a sinking suspicion that the reason Iwaizumi is a police officer has to do with what he’d just told him. He’s only trying to do what he couldn’t back then.

“Thank you for the food...” Semi mumbles. Iwaizumi only grunts in acknowledgement. It’s a quiet, somber meal from that point on and that’s the tone that remains for the remainder of the day. Iwaizumi had gone back to work, leaving Semi alone in his house for some time. Semi is afraid of the dog until he realizes the dog is more than content with just laying at his feet or on the couch with him. 

There’s a moment where Semi does consider snorting the rest of the cocaine in his pants pocket. He takes it out and examines it, feeling the powder crush through the bag under his fingertips. He knows he could just do it. He’d spent a lot of money on the product.

But is it worth the awful feeling he feels right now? He’s stiff, his eyes are watery, he feels weighed down, his heart hammers away in his chest. It’s unpleasant. He knows the longer he goes without it, everything will just get worse; he’ll start to see things that will make him unable to sleep, he’ll have mood swings, though most of it will be depression. He knows it’s easier to just keep chasing that high, even if the come down gets worse and worse.

“Here,” Semi thrusts the baggy at Iwaizumi as he comes through the door that evening from work. Even though Semi feels hollow, he knows it’s the right choice.

“Is this...?”

“Yeah. I’ll get treatment, if you help me that is... I don’t... know how to do this myself...” He rubs the back of his neck, rocking a little on his heels. He’s hungry and his stomach growls. He’d had a taste of delicious food before and he wants more.

Iwaizumi takes the bag of cocaine and weighs it in his palm before nodding, a small smile on his face, “Alright. I’ll help you. I’m glad you decided to do this, Semi.” Iwaizumi breezes past him and Semi is left standing there, a little stunned. For a moment he wonders how Iwaizumi had known his name but recalls being told his belongings had been searched and he does have various forms of ID on him. 

That night he is left to sleep on the couch, as Iwaizumi does not have a guest room. Semi doesn’t mind; anything is better than the cold wood of a bench. This time he has a proper blanket and pillow and though his irritability keeps him up for a while that night, he does manage to get a decent amount of rest. The warmth lulls him into slumber and some time during the night, Iwaizumi’s dog had joined him and curled around him, adding to the warmth.

When he wakes in the morning, he can feel the weight of the dog on top of him and it’s oddly comforting. He doesn’t hear Iwaizumi mulling about, so he assumes that he had gone back to work. Semi is still amazed that Iwaizumi would just leave him alone in his apartment and trust him not to steal anything and run. 

Semi doesn’t have the strength, and he’d also already handed over his drugs. He’s committed now. The last thing he’d want to do is break Iwaizumi’s trust, because he could actually get himself thrown in jail. Even though he wanted that outcome, prison isn’t the right place for him.

Iwaizumi leaves him notes for the day. He’d gotten Semi an extra toothbrush and made him enough for breakfast and lunch. Semi’s stomach growled again at the prospect of food, knowing that his appetite is going to be huge for the next few days. He’s not looking forward to the withdrawal symptoms again.

The next few days do bring about that awful bout of desire for the drugs. Semi feels as if his entire body is aching and his skin is crawling, searching for the cocaine. His nose wiggles much like a rabbit’s, able to feel the satisfactory tingle of snorting the powdery substance. He can barely sleep and when he can, nightmares drag him back to consciousness. He’s back to looking like a walking zombie, but this time he’s got a little more meat on his bones. Since Iwaizumi is feeding him consistently, Semi can feel himself gaining weight. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to be noticable. He’s not as much a skeleton as he was when he first arrived to Iwaizumi’s home.

Iwaizumi finds him a program he can go to. It’s bi-weekly group meetings, followed by one on one counseling and treatment twice a week. It’s about twelve hours in total and Semi is skeptical at first, but after the first few meetings, he feels himself opening up. He talks about how he was pressured at a party and he just couldn’t stop from there. There are people who relate and there are others who were using for personal escape. Some had even been in prison. There’s a hardness to them that Semi never wants to experience. 

It’s far from easy though. Semi knows he’s being a dick on some days; some days he just wants the drugs, he needs them to function. He’ll pace back and forth, tell Iwaizumi to piss off, physically try to fight him if he’s particularly bad.

“I don’t wanna feel this way anymore,” Semi sobs one night after crumbling to the floor during some mental stress. Iwaizumi held him in his arms and Semi felt his stomach flutter, though he’d equated that to the withdrawal as well.

“I know. But you’ve come so far...” Iwaizumi runs his fingers through Semi’s hair and rocks a little as the wet spot on his shoulder grows. Semi’s whole body is on fire with desire. It’s been about a month since he started treatment, about a month without cocaine, which is the longest he’d gone in the past half year. It took a physical and mental toll, but Semi  _ knows  _ he’s doing better. He can see it. 

“It feels like everything is going to come crashing down if I don’t have the drugs. I need them.”

“You don’t. You don’t need them. You’re far better without them.” Iwaizumi pulls back and cups his cheeks, “Don’t be a dumbass, Semi. The drugs did nothing but bring you down. I’ve loved seeing who you really are.”

Semi blinks the tears from his eyes. “You... have...?”

“Yeah. You’re a snarky dick, but I’ve dealt with far worse,” Iwaizumi snorts a little as he explains. “I like it though. You’re tough. You had to be to survive. You don’t have to be so scared to let your guard down now though. It’s just me. I still want to help you.”

“I never wanted this. It was just supposed to be something I did at parties. But then I kept doing it. I couldn’t stop, because it was too painful to stop. It got so bad that I had to drop out of school, I wasn’t focusing on anything but when I was gonna get high next. Even now, some part of me is waiting for the next time it’ll happen.”

Iwaizumi’s voice is firm, “It won’t. There won’t be a next time as long as I’m around.”

Semi can only nod and fresh, hot tears stream down his face as he thinks back to the first time he used and how insecure about himself he felt. He knows it’s because he hated himself that he let himself stoop so low. He still hates himself. But the treatment he’s going through and Iwaizumi’s hospitality has shown that there is still humanity left in the world. 

There’s a jiggling of keys in the lock that distract Semi from responding and his eyebrows pull in confusion. Iwaizumi has frozen in his embrace and a familiar voice calls out, “Iwa-chan! We don’t hang out anymore so I’ve invited myself over!” There’s more rustling and Iwaizumi stands to greet Oikawa, trying to block Semi from view, but it’s useless.

“Oikawa-”

“Don’t act like you’re not happy to see me! I brought beer and cards. Mattsun and Makki are on their way o- oh what the fuck.” 

Semi meets Oikawa’s gaze, which turns from lighthearted to angry in a matter of seconds. Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s arm as he tries to storm past him to get in Semi’s face.

“Let go, Hajime...” Oikawa’s voice is dark and Iwaizumi shakes his head.

“Don’t make this a big deal.”

“You told me you handled him! What the fuck is he doing in your house?! This seems like the opposite of handling!”

Semi tries to scrub the wetness from his cheeks, as he’d been crying a few moments ago. Oikawa’s comment stings a little, the one that suggested he’s something to be ‘handled’ rather than taken care of. Iwaizumi had been taking care of him, the kind of care he needed and had never gotten before.

“He needed help. You know I couldn't just let him go. Not after what happened with Keiji.”

“That was  _ seven years ago _ , Hajime! You need to deal with your grief properly, not bring in some lowlife from the street that you think you can save!”

“Semi’s doing well. You don’t have any right to tell me what I can and cannot do, or how to grieve or deal with anything properly. Get the fuck out of my house, I don’t want you here.”

Oikawa’s eyes grow impossibly wide and he looks between Iwaizumi and Semi. Semi remains on the floor, looking meak and unsure of himself. It’s a tricky situation. This is Iwaizumi’s partner, the person he’s closest to. Semi had been told stories of what Iwaizumi and Oikawa had done in high school, how they’d grown up together and did everything together. This situation... he doesn’t want to be the wedge driven between them.

“You should be in jail,” Oikawa points his finger at him, “I know Hajime has been using you to make himself feel better, but you’ll never be anything but a junkie. You don’t deserve this man’s gratitude.” He wrenches himself from Iwaizumi’s grip and storms from the house, slamming the door behind him.

Iwaizumi exhales slowly. The silence burns, it’s so painful. 

“Semi-”

“I should go. I don’t want to come between you and Oikawa.”

“No, no, listen.” Iwaizumi rushes forward to put his hands on Semi’s shoulders, holding him in place, “I don’t want you to leave. I already told you about Keiji, and why I want to help you. You’re so much more than what Oikawa said, you have to believe me.”

All his progress, all of the self confidence Semi had been working on for the past five weeks, it just seems to go out the window with Oikawa calling him a junkie. Maybe he’s right, maybe all he’ll ever be is a hopeless drug addict, trying to get better but ultimately falling back into old habits in the end. 

“It’s hard when you said you ‘handled’ me. That doesn’t make me feel like you want me here.”

“If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here,” Iwaizumi assures a bit harshly and Semi winces. Another exhale comes from the cop. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just... mad I didn’t follow protocol. But I’d rather you be here then shipped off somewhere not getting help.”

Semi swallows thickly and crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t know if he should believe Iwaizumi, but he hasn’t given a reason for Semi not to trust him. This man took him into his home when he could’ve just robbed him and left, he fed him, bathed him, seen him at his lowest. Iwaizumi is the only person who has ever shown any signs of wanting to help Semi. And that counts more than anything.

He doesn’t bring it up again. At the end of the day, he’d rather stay with Iwaizumi than be on the streets.

As his mind clears and the cravings begin to dwindle over the coming weeks, Semi starts to notice things about Iwaizumi that he couldn’t appreciate before. Looking past his hospitality and care, Iwaizumi is extremely handsome. His eyes are a brighter green than any grass or tree Semi had ever seen, and they’re beautiful. He never holds back when he smiles and Semi would consider Iwaizumi an open book when it comes to any emotion he’s feeling. Sometimes he can be guarded after coming home from a long day but for the most part, Semi’s able to read him. Iwaizumi is well built, muscles bulging from underneath his clothes and uniform.

Semi tries to shake off his attraction, tries to ignore his feelings for the time being. Once this is all said and done Semi can leave Iwaizumi behind. Iwaizumi promised to help him find a job, something small to get himself on his feet before he can be released into the world on his own.

Somehow it all seems so scary to Semi, doing things without Iwaizumi.

Week twelve of recovery comes and goes and during one counseling session, Semi realizes that he hasn’t thought about doing coke in days. Whereas just last week it was still on his mind and his body still craved it. 

He freezes completely when the realization hits him and he stops mid sentence.

“Semi-san?” His counselor shakes him gently from his thoughts and Semi looks at her. “You were talking about Iwaizumi...”

“Yeah... I think... I love him.” Semi says. Iwaizumi is the person who made him remember what it’s like to laugh without a care in the world, who got him to smile again. He even reignited his passion for art, Iwaizumi getting him a sketchbook and some pencils so he wasn’t so bored being alone all day. Iwaizumi knew him the best out of anybody else in the world at this current time. 

“That’s a big statement,” the counselor responds. She tries to redirect the conversation to Semi himself, but it’s no use. Semi’s mind has drifted and it spins, completely blown away by this realization.

Of course he loves Iwaizumi. How could he not?

Semi rushes out of therapy that day, taking the stairs instead of the elevator because he needs get his adrenaline out. He makes it to the lobby and sprints out of the facility and across the parking lot where Iwaizumi leans against his car, waiting for him.

“Hey! What’s... are you okay?” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow when he sees that Semi is out of breath.

“You saved me,” Semi breathes out as he tries to catch his breath. Iwaizumi just stares at him confused, unsure of what to say to that. “You saved my life, Iwaizumi Hajime. I probably would’ve been dead by now if it weren’t for you, you know that? You saved me and I love you. I love you so much.” Semi laughs and runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it back slightly.

Iwaizumi is still gaping at him, which isn’t usually a good sign, but Semi keeps talking, “I now it’s weird but we’ve been living together for months now and you’ve taken such great care of me. I haven’t given you anything in return but I... I’m so thankful you took a chance on me. You saved me, you really did...”

Iwaizumi’s only response to reach forward, cup Semi’s cheeks, and drag him in for a kiss. He nearly misses but their lips do touch and Semi melts into him, gripping his forearms as he tries to keep up.

“I’m so happy I found you,” Iwaizumi murmurs when he pulls away, foreheads pressed together. “I’m so happy you stayed.”

“You helped me get better. Please let me stay a little longer.”

“You can stay forever...” Iwaizumi breathes out and kisses him again, and it’s all Semi needs to be convinced. There’s no way he’d ever want to go back to his old life. It wasn’t even a life, Semi was wasting away on a bench. Now he can flourish in the arms of a man who truly wanted to help him and wants to continue to help him.

Iwaizumi is what Semi needed all along, and he’s so thankful for that fateful day in the park.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me about Semi Eita [Twitter](https://twitter.com/novocaine_sea)


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